Tribes
by allg0nemadd
Summary: Begins after episode four; Zoe thinks she has a cure for Cordelia's afflictions, and takes her to the swamp to be healed by Misty. Meanwhile, Fiona senses a change in the air and the new Supreme rising. My version of how stuff should go. M. Be warned: this is a Misty/Delia pairing and WILL contain slash and adult content, spoilers. But good story filling too. Thanks for reading!
1. Nightbird

_**Obligatory Spiel: **All characters, names, settings, places, plots, lines, everything belong to the respective creators, writers and actors; I'm just playing with them. Special acknowledgement to Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuck for fueling my addiction. Thanks for reading! As always, note the rating and be aware of explicit content._

_Tribe_s

I.

Cordelia would later believe she had recognized the cloaked figure in the mirror behind her before her sight was burned away. Truthfully, she was wishfully thinking. She had been taken completely by surprise, and was no closer to figuring out who attacked her than she was to reasoning why. She developed an instant resentment towards Fiona. Her mother had many enemies, and Delia had few. Her injury had to be a fault of Fiona's, and Delia hated that she had been caught in the crossfire of her mother's battles.

Fiona's reaction had been short-lived and lacked the passion that Delia had long ago given up hoping for. She could hear the fear and concern in Fiona's voice, but felt it was tainted with fear for her own well-being. Fiona had gotten the message. _Next time it will be you._

Delia tried to help instruct Fiona on the concocting of salves and elixers from her greenhouse stashes, but they only served to deaden the searing, heavy ache that the burns left on her once beautiful face. She didn't care as much that her appearance was certainly ruined; she was deadened by the thought that she'd never be able to see her baby's face. She _would _have a baby. There was not an ailment that some kind of magic couldn't cure, and though she knew it meant great patience and a lot of searching, Delia would find a way to have a child.

One week had passed since the night at the bar. Fiona was off fighting her own battles, claiming she was on the trail of avenging her daughter, but truthfully she was probably injecting herself with more immortality. Delia hoped she'd never be as bad as her mother. She'd age gracefully and die after a full life; she just wanted a family first.

She'd cried for most of the last day, but she wasn't sure if it was because of her situation or the weeping of pain from her damaged eyes. Her husband had still not returned, but he'd said over the phone that he would as soon as he could. She hadn't told him about the injury yet. She couldn't say it out loud. Instead, she'd cried that she needed him and that things had gotten worse. He'd probably assumed it was about her infertility. She could sense him giving up on her, but she couldn't admit that either.

The girls went about their business as usual, which was a comfort to Delia; she didn't want anyone to make a fuss over her. She could sense when Spalding brought her things, his silent softness familiar enough to be her own father's. She also talked a bit with Nan when she'd come in to hear her thoughts out loud. She wondered just how much Nan knew about her, but she trusted her goodness enough to not worry.

Fiona came and went; Delia could smell her cigarettes and expensive perfumes before she'd even hear the clacking heels over the tile outside her bedroom. She rarely said anything new. She'd prop her daughter up and stroke her hair, her long fingernails at once comforting and repulsive to Delia. She'd gotten used to pretending to sleep when Fiona would come in, and was doing so when she heard a softer voice.

"Cordelia?" From somewhere in her memory but out of her head, Delia recognized the voice as Zoe's, and felt instantly guilty about forgetting her newest student. Quickly, she turned over in her bed and faced the sound of Zoe's voice.

"Zoe, how are you holding up?" Delia felt silly addressing the air, wondering if she was even close to facing Zoe in the bright light that was her new world.

"I'm fine," Zoe said plainly. Delia thought this odd for a girl who had already suffered so much in just one week at her new school. "How're you?"

Delia cracked through the dried tears on her cheeks to smile. "I'm alright."

Zoe was silent for a moment, and Delia realized how lost she was without the language of facial expressions and gestures.

"I know someone who might be able to help you," Zoe said quietly.

Delia sat up a bit more. "What do you mean?" Did Zoe know about her infertility problem?

"With your burns," Zoe said. "I have a friend."

Delia stared into the whiteness, unsure how to respond to this unexpected offer. "Who is it?"

"You can't tell anyone," Zoe said. "Just to be safe."

Delia nodded, realizing that Zoe was putting her trust into her like a daughter, and warming at the thought.

"And don't ask me how I met her," Zoe continued. "It doesn't matter. She found me."

Delia nodded again, but found herself wanting to know just that.

"I can take you to her," Zoe said. "I have seen her heal burns before. And cuts. She might even have something for your eyes."

Delia could hardly fathom that a girl who just found out her status as a witch would have connections that she didn't, but something in her voice suggested that Zoe was sincere, and wanted to help. Cordelia had nothing to lose.

"When can we go?"

Zoe left the windows cracked in the car to let in the passing breeze, but the stifling Louisiana humidity clung to their skin and clothes like muck, and Delia felt the effects of not showering in days. She could smell the exhaust on the road, but then something else. A muddy, sodden scent tickled her nostrils and she was reminded of playing outside during her childhood. That smell could only be one thing. The swamp.

"Where are we going?" Delia asked quietly, concentrating on her senses.

"She kinda lives apart from the world," Zoe said. "We're almost there."

When the car stopped, Delia automatically fumbled for the handle, got out of the car, and then realized she had no idea which way to walk. A soft hand took her arm and Zoe guided her over a crunchy gravel pathway.

"We have to walk a little ways," Zoe said, her feet finding a regular rhythm a few inches in front of Delia. "It must be weird to not be able to see."

Delia scoffed. "It'll take getting used to."

"Maybe it won't have to," Zoe said. Delia hoped she was right, but didn't set her hopes too high.

The frogs and creatures of the swamp buzzed in chorus, and Delia realized she was squeezing Zoe's hand as they traipsed further into the darkness. The white blindness she'd grown used to had transformed to smothering black with the lack of light, and she wondered what time it had gotten to be. She'd heard stories of the people of the bayou, and suddenly feared for the people Zoe might have gotten mixed up with.

"You're sure we can trust this person?" Delia's voice seemed miniscule in the enveloping environment. "My mom has a lot of enemies around here."

"Yeah," Zoe said. "She's helped me before. She works on her own."

Zoe stopped walking before Delia expected her to. She bumped into her softly before stopping and letting go of her hand. Zoe's knuckles thumped against something hard, and a small sliver of light fell upon her dead eyes. Music played from somewhere inside and the nip of incense twisted around Delia's head.

"Zoe!" The voice was a woman's, excited and welcoming, and Delia lowered her head as she realized she had no idea how to stand or look when meeting someone new now.

"Misty can you help?" Zoe was guiding Delia inside, where the floor was hard like the door and the scent of herbs and incense stronger. "She got burned. Acid, I think. She's my headmistress."

"Depends on what's wrong," a strong southern accent purred near Delia's ear. Her presence was warm and bright, and Delia automatically formed an image of a beautiful forest fairy with glittering hair and vine adornments, then cracked a half-smile at her silliness.

"Cordelia, this is Misty," Zoe said, and Delia could picture her motioning.

"Delia is fine," said Delia before she was tickled by realization. "Misty?"

"Yeah," Zoe sounded slightly guilty. "Misty Day. The one you told us about, the witch they burned."

Delia frowned as she tried to piece together the impossible. "You survived?"

There was a moment of pause and Delia cursed her inability to see the women she was talking to.

"Power of resurgence," Misty said with a smile that Delia could hear, "isn't that what you called it Zoe?"

Zoe must have nodded, because there was silence.

"Can you help her?" Zoe said. "She was attacked. We don't know who did it. She doesn't deserve to live like this."

"It may take time," Misty said, and Delia felt soft fingers stroking down her cheek. "But if I could help Kyle I can help her."

Delia turned towards Misty's voice and was about to ask, but Zoe was suddenly talking very quickly.

"Great, thank you so much Misty I owe you so much," Zoe mumbled and Delia could hear her moving across the floor. "I really have to go now but I will come back with some of her stuff tomorrow."

"You could stay too," Misty said, still close to Delia's side.

"I really can't tonight," Zoe sounded almost out of the door. "I really have to take care of something."

Delia couldn't see Misty's expression but she knew Misty was disappointed.

"I'll come back tomorrow," Zoe said. "Promise."

With that, the door shut and Delia was uncomfortable enough in the presence of a complete stranger to forget Zoe mentioning Kyle.

Misty was humming along to the tune, and Delia wondered what she could possibly say to break the awkwardness.

"We should get started right away," Misty saved her the task. Gently, she took Delia's arm and was guiding her closer to the light. Misty helped her sit on something soft and feathery, and sat next to her holding her hands.

"So what exactly do you do?" Delia knew she was talking for the sake of talking, but she was also curious about Misty's incredible story.

"I use the power I have," Misty said mystically. "And the gifts around us. You'd be surprised what the swamp can offer."

Delia smiled knowingly. "My power is alchemy."

Misty laughed and squeezed her hand tighter. "Both of us using the magic of plants! We must have lots in common Delia."

Delia felt a familiarity that she wasn't sure was a trick of Misty's hospitable personality or a genuine connection, but she felt comforted by her. She figured Misty probably talked to all her visitors like this; she must live a lonely life alone in the swamp. Still, Delia had been lonely too.

"Do you like Stevie Nicks?" Delia asked, letting go of Delia's hands and pouring her something that splashed noisily on a table before them.

Delia knew the name, but barely. "Yes," she lied. "He's wonderful."

"He?" Misty laughed. "Stevie is a girl. THE girl. She's my goddess!"

Delia cursed herself and felt her cheeks blushing. "Oh, right, I'm sorry."

Delia felt Misty wave a hand in front of her. "Don't be, it's alright. Lots of people seem to have forgotten about her music. But not me."

"Is this her?" Delia asked, motioning to the music she couldn't source. "It's great."

Misty didn't say anything but Delia felt she had been forgiven. A warm mug was placed in her hand and Misty stood. "Drink that. I'm going to run a bath."

Modesty thundered into Delia's chest, and she instantly wished to be home in her own bed and bathtub. But Misty's soft humming reminded her that they were sisters, bound by ancient blood ties and magical roots that were unbreakable and sacred. She'd have to trust Misty completely, and she didn't have anything to loose.

Fiona's bones had been vibrating with the static of change and inevitable mortality. The pills only quelled so much, and the alcohol had long ago lost the warming comfort that she once turned to. The drinks were cold, and the pills hard to swallow. Still, she couldn't stop. Pangs of maternal concern sunk into her stomach every time she looked at her daughter's burned face, and she wondered at the feeling. For years, Cordelia had been on her own. Fiona had been too busy trying to prolong her own life to be involved in her daughter's. Now, when confronted with Delia's mortality, something had awakened in Fiona, and she regretted the time lost with her little girl.

But, Fiona's sense of pride was strong, and as usual, she washed away her feelings with drink, and tried hard to not let Delia see her struggle. She envied the mother in the hospital whose daughter she'd saved. They had the rest of their lives together to have a normal, healthy and beautiful relationship. Fiona had given that up the day she left eighteen-year-old Delia on the steps of the academy and drove away with her latest man-toy. The least she could do now was take care of Delia with whatever magic she had, and protect her from the evil that was targeting them.

When Delia was not in her bed one afternoon, Fiona instantly expected the worst. A new supreme was rising, her daughter was missing, and the witching world was at war. For the first time in her career and life, Fiona felt completely powerless.


	2. Gate and Garden

_Sorry it took so long to write another one! I didn't realize how many followers I'd gotten for this! Very happy other people are interested. Thanks for reading! Keep checking back; it's nowhere near done!_

2

The water smelled interesting to Cordelia. It wasn't a bad smell, but there was something unfamiliar to it. She could hear Misty humming somewhere beside her as she ground and crushed something in a bowl, and the steam from the bath was beginning to wrap around her skin, giving her goosebumps.

She stood awkwardly, not able to even look around while she waited, and wondered if Misty expected her to undress. She tried to put Misty in the position of a doctor, but modesty was fighting hard and she realized she was clenching her fists with her arms folded tightly around her.

"Alright, I'll go in the other room while you bathe," Cordelia started as Misty's voice spoke softly next to her. She hadn't even felt her approach. "Rub this on your eyes and let it soak."

Misty placed a smooth-textured bowl in Delia's hands and took her arm to lead her towards the tub.

"It's nothing special," Misty said. "Just an old metal bucket, but the water is hot and the herbs will help you relax."

Delia nodded, and realized she recognized many of the scents of the pasty tonic Misty had made in the bowl.

"It's just right in front of you," Misty said, seeming to read Delia's mind. "Just a little step over."

Delia nodded again and tentatively knelt down to feel the rim of the tub. "Thank you Misty."

Misty must have smiled or nodded, but Delia had to feel rather than see it.

"I'll let you undress," Misty said, and Delia could hear her voice moving away from her. "I'll be back after you've had a nice soak."

Delia waited until she was sure she was alone, then she set the bowl down next to the tub and began to disrobe. She realized she'd been wearing her nightgown and a sweater for days, and began to crave the feeling of the hot water on her tired, tear-stained skin.

The bath enveloped her, and Delia felt better than she had in days. She sunk in to her neck, and was contemplating falling asleep when she remembered the salve. She had to feel around a bit to locate the clay bowl, but once she applied the first smearing of the strange stuff to her eyes, she forgot all her anxieties about her blindness. The paste, which felt a little like mud, cooled and repaired her skin instantly, and she could feel her face tightening. She wondered how it would look once she rinsed it off, but realized she'd probably never know.

She had drifted into a light and dozy relaxed sleep when she heard shuffling next to her.

"Delia, is it okay if I come in?" Misty's voice was across the room.

"Yes," Delia said, sitting up and eager to see what magic Misty was going to work next.

She couldn't see her, but she felt Misty kneeling or sitting beside her, scuffling on the dusty wooden floor as she settled.

"How's that feel?" Misty inquired softly.

"Feels wonderful," Delia said. "Is it working?"

In reply, Misty gently wiped a soft warm cloth over Delia's eyes. She hummed pensively.

"It looks like it's taking really well," Misty said. "The scars are already fading. We'll probably apply more tonight."

Delia realized she'd lost all track of time. "What time is it?"

"'Bout ten," Misty said. "You'll have to spend the night. I can't make it perfect in just an hour."

Delia's sense of duty was telling her she needed to get back to the school, but her heart and mind wanted to stay with the strange lady of the swamp and be completely healed. She wondered if her husband would even attempt to come home that night.

"You got something better you could be doing?" Misty said, again reading her mind somehow.

"No," Delia said uneasily. "I just…"

"You're just not used to staying with weird ladies in the middle of the swamp all night," Misty said playfully. "I get it. A lot of folks aren't. Most don't even stay."

"You don't get many visitors?" Delia asked, curious to know more about the witch.

"Only folks who need something," she said, the water making a soothing splashing sound as she re-dipped the cloth and again wiped Delia's eyes.

Delia realized she was maybe one of these people. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Misty said. "Besides Zoe and Kyle, I really haven't had any others."

"Kyle?" Delia turned her head towards Misty.

Misty must have realized something, because she redirected the conversation.

"So you teach Zoe?"

"Yes, I have several girls at the school," Delia said. "We're a dying breed, it seems. I just want to give them a chance to know what they can do."

"I sometimes wish I'd have known sooner," Misty said dreamily. "But then again it probably just would have gotten me killed sooner."

"And how is it you came back?" Delia asked. "Can you bring yourself back, too?"

Misty laughed lightly. "I guess," she said. "I guess I just never died."

"Don't tell my mother that," Delia said jokingly. "She'll find out whatever power you have and harvest it to live forever. And that's something I don't think I could handle."

"You don't get along with your mother?" Misty asked, now tucking loose strands of Delia's wet hair behind her ears.

"She's selfish, and she's never truly supported me," Delia replied, wondering how much Misty knew about Fiona being the Supreme. "Even the one happy thing in my life, she's had to destroy."

"And what's that?" Misty placed something cool over Delia's eyes, and the light turned darker.

"My marriage," Delia said sullenly. "She hates my husband. Always has."

Misty remained quiet, but removed the cold cloth from Delia's eyes. She could smell lavender.

"Most of the time moms are critical of whoever their daughters decide to marry," Misty said after a moment. "A woman's daughter is her treasure."

Delia shrugged. "I suppose that's true. She just thinks love makes me blind."

Misty giggled. "Does it make you blind?" She placed her palms softly against Delia's eyes, and they felt suddenly hot. "Or does it make you see?"

Delia became aware of a change in the lighting and her head felt warm. Misty removed her hands and Delia opened her eyes.

The light hurt, but it was pleasant to have sensation in her eyes. Delia focused on the yellows and greens in front of her as they took shape. The woman sitting beside her was young and pretty, eyes dark with makeup and her blonde hair wild. She was nothing like what Delia imagined, and she fancied that if anyone actually looked like a witch, it was Misty.

Misty was smiling, and Delia realized she was probably staring rudely. Suddenly self conscious in front of someone she could actually see, Delia squeezed her legs to her chest and sat up.

"How did you-" Delia started. "What did you just do?"

Misty waved a hand as if she'd done nothing more than brought her a glass of water. "It's just what I do."

Delia could hardly believe she was seeing again, and almost wondered if the whole night had been a dream.

Misty stood from the tub and held out a pink towel. "Should I just leave this here?"

Delia was still in disbelief, and could barely shake her head yes or no. Misty stood with the towel outstretched and Delia stood, taking it from her and wrapping it tightly around her.

"I'll get you some clothes," Misty said. "The scars will still take a while to heal, but at least you can see now to do it yourself at home."

"Home," Delia stood, hair dripping, and pulled the towel tighter. "How do I get home?"

"I think Zoe'll come back tomorrow," Misty said, as she walked out of the room. "You can have my bed tonight."

"I couldn't," Delia said. "After all you've done."

Misty returned, holding a soft-looking blue dress. "I'd be more than happy to have you." She handed Delia the dress. "It gets boring out here all by myself."

"Don't you have friends or family?" Delia began to rub the towel over her legs and arms, still modest, although Misty had seen her naked already.

"My friends and family burned me at the stake," Misty scoffed as she turned to leave. "So no. Besides Zoe."

Something flickered in Delia's memory. "Misty," she said, calling her back into the room. "Do you know Kyle?"

Misty looked suddenly serious. "I don't know if I should say. That's Zoe's business."

"I will find out," Delia said. "She's my student; if she's playing with magic that's above her level I need to know about it."

Misty stood, swaying slightly to the music coming from the other room, but didn't answer.

"You brought him back, didn't you?" Delia asked.

Misty sighed and looked towards the floor. "She didn't ask me to. So don't get mad at her."

"What did she do?" Delia realized she was standing naked, and dropped the towel to the floor and slipped the dress over her head. It smelled of incense and spices, and the fabric was cool and moist with the swamp humidity.

Misty shook her head. "It's not my place to go snitchin' on people. You'll have to talk to her about it all."

Delia could tell she wouldn't get any more out of Misty, and didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"Where will you sleep tonight?" Delia changed the subject. "Honestly, I can just walk back if you tell me the way."

"Walk back?" Misty smiled. "In the swamp at night? Even I won't do that. Not with the gators and bugs out. I have a big ol' cozy chair that I can use."

Delia shook her head. "I can't do that to you. Let's just share. I will be out of your hair as soon as it's light out."

Misty smiled. "Well I guess if I can share a bed with zombie Kyle…"

Delia was about to pry more, but decided against it. She appreciated Misty's generosity, and felt comfortable enough around her to stay.

"You don't snore, do you?" Misty asked playfully. "C'mon, I'll put another layer on your eyes before we turn in."

The night passed slowly, and for Delia, restlessly. The swamp noises were a cacophony to her, and the paste on her eyes itched. She wanted to keep her eyes open and never have to close them again, but she also knew she needed rest. Beside her, Misty slept silently. She'd barely moved, but Delia listened to her softly breathing. Tomorrow she'd have to explain to her mother how she had been fixed, and was more apprehensive about this than anything else going on, including Zoe's business with Kyle.

Misty had an invaluable gift, and she knew that Fiona would do whatever was necessary to get it. Delia resolved to keep Misty a complete secret. She wondered absently whether or not her husband had returned home yet as she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

She woke up well past first light, and heard that familiar twang of Stevie Nicks' smooth melodic voice. Misty was up, and twirled around her little kitchen area as she prepared a kettle for tea. She wore a brown lacey dress, cut short, and tall-heeled boots up to her knees. She had a shawl hanging loosely from her arms, and her hair was just as untamed as the previous night. She hummed as she danced around the kitchen.

Delia had so many questions about the woman, but also none at all. Misty was perfect in her own way, and somehow required no justification for anything she did. There was a freedom about her that Delia envied and admired.

She got out of the bed and walked towards the kitchen. "Thank you again Misty," she said softly. "I don't think I can say it enough."

Misty turned, licking something off her finger. "Delia look at you!" She was smiling wide, staring at Delia's forehead, eyes and cheeks. "You look almost normal again!"

Delia looked around for a mirror, finding an old fashioned one propped up on a table. Her skin looked radiant and healed, save for a few bumpy areas right on top of her cheekbones. She felt herself tearing up at the sight, and the relief she felt suddenly.

"Oh Misty," she whispered. "This is amazing."

Misty stood behind her, watching her in the mirror. "The swamp can do some amazing things."

"You do amazing things," Delia turned to her. "Maybe it's forward of me, but you're always invited to join us at the academy… see what you really can do."

Misty smiled and shrugged. "I don't see myself as a school kind of person. I guess I'm just happy here with my music and critters."

Delia nodded. "I just wish I could repay you."

Misty tucked a loose strand of hair back behind Delia's ear. "Come visit me sometime," she said simply. "I get lonely out here all alone. It's nice to have company."

Delia nodded as Misty walked back to the kitchen. She poured hot water over some leaves, handed Delia a cup and fell back onto the bed.

"Sometimes I wonder what I am doing out here," Misty said, staring at her ceiling, decorated with vines of overgrown houseplants, strands of garland and Christmas lights. "Just bringing critters back to life and getting revenge on the hicks who hurt 'em."

Delia sat beside her on the bed, clutching her hot cup in the cool morning air blowing in from the window. "I think it's wonderful."

Misty turned her head and smiled at Delia, and Delia felt butterflies. Misty intimidated her, but in an exciting way. She wondered at this for a moment before there was a knock on the door and Misty sprang up to unlatch it.

"Zoe!" She said excitedly, and Delia stood as Zoe entered.

"Is she okay?" Zoe asked, then noticed Delia standing by the bed.

"I'm much better, Zoe," Delia said, holding her hands in front of her like she so often did when addressing her students. "Thank you for bringing me."

"Y'all want to stay for lunch?" Misty asked longingly. Delia could tell she wasn't ready to lose her company, but there was a lot she had to catch up on at the academy.

"I wish we could Misty but I really shouldn't impose," Delia said. "I have to get back and-make up lost time."

Misty looked disappointed but understanding. "Well you come back and see me," Misty said. "Both of you."

Zoe and Delia promised, said goodbye, and began the hike back to the car. Delia watched absently out the window as they drove home, everything still coated in a beautiful glow in her new eyes. But the trees and shacks passed boringly as her mind wandered back to the strange witch of the swamp, and a Stevie Nicks song played through her head.

TBC


	3. Dreams

3

The glow around Cordelia's face was noticeable to Fiona the moment she walked back through the doors of the academy. When her daughter looked at her, Fiona knew something had happened to Delia that was more than just plant-magic.

"Delia," she whispered, approaching her slowly. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry I didn't tell you," Delia said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I found a healer and left pretty quickly."

"Who?" Fiona ran a thumb over Delia's left eye, marveling at the powerful magic that had healed her burned and blind eyes.

Delia hesitated, which Fiona noted with suspicion. "Just somebody Zoe knows."

Fiona frowned and swirled her martini glass around, downing the last sip while never taking her eyes off of Delia.

"You're not visiting the enemy, are you Delia?" Fiona said, rather than asked, stalking away from Delia. "You know we're at war."

"Well we shouldn't be," Delia snapped. "But it wasn't them. She has nothing to do with them."

"Is she a witch?" Fiona spun around and her gaze pierced Delia.

Delia knew she couldn't lie. But she also didn't have to reveal everything about Misty Day.

"Yes," Delia said quietly. "She's more of a healer, like me."

"Well why isn't she here? At this school?" Fiona asked, flailing her empty glass as she gestured. "Don't you collect young and powerful witches?"

"I don't collect them," Delia said defensively. "I help them rise and understand their full potential.

"Oh, don't give me that righteous crap Delia," Fiona spat. "We both know you just want to be able to have a handle on what all the other witches are doing. Determined to find the new Supreme before I do. I know your ways."

Cordelia had no reply, but felt a burning anger towards her mother that forced her to turn and walk away. "I just thought you'd be happy I can see again."

Fiona didn't answer, but deep inside she felt a relief for Delia that she couldn't articulate. She also felt a betrayal though, and a suspicion that Delia was keeping a secret. She knew she could easily find out what Delia was hiding, but also felt a sense of loyalty towards her and her privacy. Still, she had never seen evidence of such strong magic; there was more to it than a few herbs and potions. Delia could have healed herself if that was the situation. Whoever she'd seen was powerful, and either a threat or a benefit to Fiona. She'd have to find out, and felt that as the Supreme, she had every right to.

Delia's dreams were disrupted by images of things she couldn't make sense of. She saw her husband, she saw red hair, and she saw her mother wearing red, blood dripping down her fingers. None of it meant much to her, but she felt a sense of truth in the images. Somehow, she knew they were real. Did this mean her husband had been unfaithful? She'd assumed so for quite some time, but she'd been too eager to become pregnant to allow herself to believe.

Now, when it seemed like she'd never have a child, she knew the truth. She wasn't sure if the second-sight was a power she'd always had, or something that Misty had somehow gifted her when she healed her. Still, she knew it was important that she had it.

Her husband still hadn't returned home, which she was thankful for, but he had called a few times. Finally, after Delia became convinced of his infidelity, she told him to not call and not come home. Fiona was happier than ever, claiming that she had always been right about him and that Delia should have listened to her more. Delia thought she'd feel liberated, but instead felt an impending sense of unease, and the visions of her husband as a complete stranger increased. She'd seen him with Marie Laveau, seen him with blood on his hands, and she'd wake up every night drenched in cold sweat and out of breath.

She was terrified, scared of her husband, scared of her mom, and felt worse about having no one to turn to. After an especially bad night of multiple terrors, Delia put on some clothes and snuck into Zoe's room for her car keys. She wasn't sure what had given her the impulse to drive back to the swamp, but she knew it was something she had to do. She'd seen Misty, too, and Misty was always the shining light in her dreams that held the key to dealing with the others. She didn't know why or how, but she trusted the visions, and found herself knocking on Misty's door in the dead of the night.

That familiar and comforting smell of incense and warmth greeted Delia when Misty opened the door. Misty didn't even say anything, but her face lit up in an excited smile as she opened the door wider for Delia.

Once inside, after the door was closed, Delia addressed Misty. "I'm sorry it's so late."

"It's not," Misty said, circling around Delia and sitting on the bed. "I just woke up."

Delia wasn't sure what to say next, or how to explain why she was over so late. Misty sat, quietly watching Delia as she sat beside her.

"I'm seeing things," Delia said.

Misty nodded. "Things you haven't before."

"Did you do this to me?" Delia turned to her.

Misty smiled but shook her head. "No, but I might've helped it along."

"What kind of magic is this?" Delia asked.

Misty shrugged. "I don't understand it, I just have it."

Delia's mind spun. "Can you fix everything?"

"Like what?" Misty giggled. "Relationship problems? Sorry, but I don't get involved in those soap operas."

Delia shook her head. "I don't know what I meant, I just," she paused. "It's extraordinary."

Misty laughed and nodded. "I don't really believe it myself."

Delia sat with her hands folded in her lap, wondering if maybe she'd made a mistake coming to the swamp. Before she could think about what she was doing, she blurted out everything.

"I think my mother has done something terrible," she said.

Misty sat up and looked closely at Delia. Delia averted her eyes, but continued.

"I see things in my dreams," she almost whispered. "Maybe they're not even dreams, they're almost visions. Or premonitions. But they're things that have already happened, so I don't know what they are…"

Misty was nodding. "You're seeing the truth. The things you've wondered about, or have been suspicious of, you're seeing the answers now."

"Yes," Delia said, feeling like she was finally getting somewhere. "And it shows me awful things, things my mother has done. Which doesn't shock me since she's always been so ruthless, but I don't know what to do with the things I see."

Misty didn't say anything, but looked pensive.

"I think she killed one of my girls," Delia's voice was small and shaky. "And my aunt."

Misty's eyes were deep. She stood up and walked across the room to her 8-track player. "I think we need some music."

Delia found Misty's reaction suitable for her, but also odd. Somehow she trusted her though, and figured that whatever Misty had to say would come out in time.

The song that played was familiar to Delia, and she realized she knew it to be _Dreams_ by Fleetwood Mac. Misty had intentionally put it on. The strange feeling of longing for something she couldn't recognize erupted inside Delia, and she lost herself in the song.

Eyes closed, she could feel Misty's warmth next to her, and smell the sweetness of her hair. She tried to enable herself to have another vision, but nothing came. She wondered if they only occurred when she slept.

Fingers were sliding her hair away from her eyes, and she heard Misty humming along to the melody. She wondered if she was under some kind of spell, but melted into the moment when she felt Misty's lips against her own. It was as if it was supposed to be, and nothing felt surprising or awkward about it.

Their tongues touched briefly, and Misty's hands pulled Delia close. Delia inhaled sharply and felt Misty's mouth moving down her chin, neck, and to her chest. She opened her eyes, but nobody was there. The vision faded just as dreams do.

Misty still sat beside her, watching intently, but was nowhere near her. Delia felt suddenly embarrassed, and wondered if it showed on her face. Misty was smiling at her.

"Did you have another vision?" She asked playfully.

_More to come very soon! -a_


	4. Leather and Lace

4

Delia wasn't sure if it was a vision, a fantasy, or something else entirely. She could still feel Misty's soft lips against hers, and smell her hair tickling against her cheek. Misty watched her interestedly, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry I just," started Delia. "I don't know what I'm seeing anymore."

Misty swung her legs underneath her and sat up. "I see things sometimes too," she said seriously. "Things I didn't know I knew."

"Like what?" Delia whispered, unsure if she even wanted to know.

Misty shrugged. "Well I know you're in danger at that house."

"What?" Delia frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I see you in that house, you and the girls," Misty was nodding. "Zoe, everyone… you're all dead."

Delia's heart started pounding. "Excuse me?"

Misty's voice and face had taken on a tone of seriousness Delia didn't recognize. She held her head back slightly, staring into space as she muttered.

"He kills us all, he won't stop 'til we're dead, but something stops him."

Her voice was soft, as if she were talking to herself, and Delia could hardly make sense of what she was saying. Tentatively, she put a hand on Misty's shoulder.

"Misty," she said softly. "What are you taking about?"

Misty seemed to come out of it and her eyes moved to Delia. She smiled. "Just things I see sometimes. But I find I can control them if I know what's coming."

Delia considered this while Misty hopped off the bed and turned up the music. As if nothing had even happened, she softly spun and danced to the song with her eyes closed, dreamy as ever. Delia felt danger coming, but she knew not from where. She didn't trust anyone anymore, and felt her life and control crumbling around her. Hot tears began to fill her eyelids, which felt strange and itchy since her healing, and she blinked a few tears down her cheeks.

Misty stopped dancing and looked at Delia. "Dee," Misty said concernedly. Something about this shortened version of her name and the way Misty said it broke Delia down, and she starting crying intensely.

Misty hurried over to her and sat beside her on the bed, taking her hands in her own.

"Delia, my god!" she said consolingly. "It's alright! You haven't got anything to worry about! I told you, I've been keeping my eye on things…"

"I don't know anymore, Misty," Delia poured. "I don't… know who anyone is. I don't know my mother, I don't even know my own husband… I'll never have a baby… I barely even know you!"

It all surfaced, and the more Delia released the worse she felt for heaping it all on Misty. Misty however, raised a hand to her cheeks and ran her thumb over her cheekbones to wipe away the tears. _Always healing_, thought Delia.

"I'm sorry Misty," she whispered. "I never meant to drag you into anything. Anything with me, anything with Zoe…"

Misty shushed her and shook her head. "You know me, Dee! And I've known my path would cross with y'all for quite a while. I don't think you had anything to do with that… but I'm glad you did."

Delia's stomach flip-flopped again, and she had to look away from Misty. She couldn't understand why she felt the things she did, or where they were coming from. She hadn't met a person quite so interesting, and she wondered if her visions would be able to show her what part Misty had to play.

"Why can't you have a baby?" Misty broke Delia from her ponderings unexpectedly.

"Something about my body," Delia was filled with an amplified sadness, not just for her infertility, but because of Hank. "It just won't…"

Misty watched her concernedly.

"But I don't suppose you could fix that, could you?" Delia made the joke before she understood what she'd said, and then felt immediately embarrassed.

Misty grinned and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The conversation was dropped.

"I should go back," Delia said after a while, releasing Misty's hands.

Misty looked disappointed, but let Delia rise and walk towards the door.

"Delia," Misty's usually jubilant voice was small and scared. Delia turned towards her and saw fear in her eyes. "You'll come back for me, won't you?"

Delia couldn't stop thinking about Misty Day, and she couldn't stop dreaming night terrors of Hank, her mother, and Marie Laveau. Misty was the bright light in her darkness, and the only thought that kept the others at bay. But her thoughts were impure, and Delia couldn't begin to reason where they were coming from. She could hear her voice when she smelled the plants and herbs in her greenery, and found herself humming Stevie Nicks songs she didn't even know she knew. Outside her greenhouse, she knew her mother stalked the house, listening and snooping, trying desperately to find out what Delia was up to. This was precisely why Delia stopped all visits to Misty's shack. She realized what danger she'd be putting Misty in if her mother were to follow her, and although she regretted her decision to keep away, she knew it wouldn't be the end.

The day the doorbell rang repeatedly, Delia had an instant suspicion of who it would be.

The night before, Delia woke up soaked in cold sweat, screaming into the darkness. She'd dreamed of Misty, sleeping softly, beautifully surrounded by her shawls and scarves, Stevie lulling her in the background. Suddenly, in an explosion of pillow-feathers and light in the dark, gunshots tore through her hut. Delia didn't stay awake long enough to know if Misty had survived, but when the doorbell rang, she knew it was real.

"You have to save me," Misty stammered as Delia opened the door.

"Misty, what's going on?" Delia let her in and noticed her bare, dirty feet. She'd probably run all the way from the swamp.

Misty's eyes were wild with fear, and she scanned the house with them before finally talking in hushed whispers to Delia. "Someone is tryin' to kill me."

Delia took her hands; they were freezing. "I dreamed it. I mean I saw it. I don't know what it is… who did this?"

"I didn't see him," Misty said. "But I felt like I knew him."

Delia's visions were silent. They offered her no help, though she tried to see further than her tattered dream.

"Can you protect me?" Misty whispered desperately.

Delia realized that this was probably the first time Misty had ever had to ask for help from anyone, and she was flattered.

"Of course," Delia said, squeezing her hands. "This is a safe place. Especially for you."

Fiona wasn't slow, and she wasn't ignorant about anything that went on under her roof. She knew well that the woman her daughter recently took in was more than just a wayward witch. Delia's miraculously fast healing, frequent absences, and time spent in her greenhouse with Misty made Fiona realize that Misty was special. Never would she have thought that a backwoods swamp witch would be the next supreme, but she was beginning to wonder.

Not only that, she began to wonder if maybe she could use Misty to her advantage. If she were the next supreme, she'd grow strong and Fiona would wither. But if Misty were to heal Fiona's cancer, would it destroy her and allow Fiona to go on living? Fiona became obsessed with the idea, but had no idea how to get Misty to willingly open up to her, especially since Delia kept such a watchful eye. She seemed to be coveting Misty, but Fiona still couldn't figure out their exact relationship. All she knew is that if Delia had any say in the matter, or said anything at all to Misty, she'd tell her to beware of her mother and would put an end to Fiona's plan before it even began.

Misty was running her hands through a curtain of twisted vines, a bright smile on her face and wonder in her eyes. Delia watched her while she dug up a planter box to prepare it for a new harvest.

"I started growing those when I was thirteen," Delia said. "First thing I ever kept alive."

Misty turned her smile to Delia. "That surprises me," she said. "I would have figured you'd have always had the green touch."

"Any craft takes practice," Delia said. "Even yours probably."

Misty moved around the table and stood close to Delia, a habit of hers Delia had gotten used to and even adored. "Can you teach me?"

Delia scooped some mud out of the pot and dusted off her hands. "I don't know much about necromancy," she said. "Just what I can find in books and that's not much. There haven't been too many witches with the power of resurgence in our recent history."

Misty looked slightly downtrodden.

"It's a gift," Delia said, hoping to cheer her.

"It just seems too good to be true, you know?" Misty said. "I just want to go back to my swamp with my own plants and music and critters."

Delia was slightly hurt by this. "I'm sorry Misty," she said. "I can't keep you here, obviously. But I can keep you safe. I can give you a greenhouse, we can probably find some Stevie music somewhere, and I have a cat, but that's all I can offer."

Misty was smiling again. "That's plenty," she said, looking near tears. "I just haven't ever had a friend like you before. I wouldn't leave that now that I've found it."

She looked at Delia with such innocence and gratitude that Delia lost herself and moved towards Misty's lips. She was reacting on something she couldn't understand, something impulsive, and almost like magic. She wasn't surprised when Misty didn't pull away, or when Misty's hand gently slid over her cheek and cupped her ear.

Delia held her dirt-covered hands up and away from Misty, but Misty soon grasped them and brought them around her neck. Delia sought her lips more feverishly, and found she was backing her up onto the table, hanging herbs and plants swinging as Misty bumped them. Misty's dark eyes looked down at her with a hunger she didn't recognize, and her stomach tightened.

With her hands on Misty's soft skirt, she began kissing her lips again, moving hungrily over her jaw line, down her neck and over her collarbone. Misty's fingers combed through her hair, releasing her hair tie and pulling her close.

Buried in Misty's neck, Delia spoke to her in broken whispers. "I don't know what I'm doing." More kisses. "Or why I am."

Misty scoffed lightly, "Because you already saw it happening?"

Delia brought her head up. "How did you know that?"

Misty shrugged and stroked Delia's hair away from her face. "I might've seen it too."

Delia wondered momentarily if Misty saw the things she did, and whether that was another sign of her supreme-status. But Misty's hands were wrapped around her neck, the girls were out for the day, and her mother had been spending her time elsewhere.

"Let's go upstairs," Delia mumbled into Misty's ear. Her hair smelled just as it did before, only this time she was sure it was real.

_tbc_**  
**


	5. Bella Donna

_A/N: Sorry this one's short guys. I just wanted to keep the momentum for the story up so I present you with chapter 5!_

Cordelia traced the line of Misty's body with her fingers, admiring her smooth skin and wondering at the thought of never being able to see it. Misty had saved her in so many ways.

She was humming, as usual, her eyes closed contentedly as she lay sprawled in Delia's bed, her hair fanned out on the pillow underneath her. Her shawl was haphazardly draped over the two of them, their clothes discarded on the floor.

"I think I found my tribe," Misty said quietly.

Delia sat up on her elbow. "Here?"

Misty opened her eyes and looked at her. "Mostly just you."

Delia smiled and bit her lip, flattered and unsure what to say in the unfamiliarity of a romantic situation. Instead, she met Misty's lips for another kiss. Misty's hands slid up her sides and around her back, down her buttocks and pulled her close.

"This was my first time," Misty whispered. "Is that bad?"

Delia laughed lightly and shook her head. "No," she whispered. "It was mine too. With a girl, I mean."

"Really?" Misty's bright smile returned. "All those years growing up here, I just assume girls get lonely enough…"

"I was always a good girl," Delia said. "I met Hank, married him, and that was the end of my story."

Misty was silent, and a secret apprehension passed between them. But their closeness was enough to dissolve thoughts of Hank's betrayal, and they resumed kissing lightly.

"The girls will be home soon," Delia said softly. "And probably my mother."

Misty's eyes said it all: she didn't care, and she was happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life. Delia realized she was seeing a reflection of her own feelings.

"Fuck it," Delia whispered, smothering Misty's lips with her own. Misty laughed under her kiss.

Delia's hands slid up Misty's legs, her nails gently digging into her soft skin. Misty was lightly panting beneath her, begging with her body for a closer touch. Misty's fingers ran through Delia's hair, lightly pulling and sending goosebumps up Delia's back.

The last time Delia had been intimate with anyone, it was Hank, and it was heightened by her fertility spell. This was just as intense, and Delia found herself forgetting the necessity of having a baby, though she couldn't help but wonder if Misty could fix that for her too.

As she felt Misty touch her body, she craved her, imagining she was soaking up her vitality and light as she kissed every part of her chest and stomach. Misty tasted like life: sweet and fresh, bright and beautiful.

Misty sat up and Delia let her gently push her down to the bed, her head resting at the foot. Misty sat with one leg on either side of her and leaned over her, kissing her forehead and down to her lips, throat and chest. Her blonde curls tickled Delia's skin, and she bunched the sheets up in her hands beside her. Misty rose slowly and smiled down at Delia. Delia was about to speak, about to ask Misty if anything could be done to help her have a baby, when the door to her room opened.

Delia couldn't see because the door was behind her, but Misty's face turned to horror. She hurriedly fell off of Delia and wrapped the sheets around herself while Delia rolled over and faced the door.

Fiona stood in the doorway, clad in her usual severe black, but her usually suave face was lined with utter shock.

_tbc_


End file.
